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He only chuckles and shakes his head. “Perhaps I need to talk to your tutors about giving you more to do.”
I get up and throw my arms around his neck, resting my head on his shoulder. “It’s not my fault I work fast. Besides, poor Mr. Thomas will have to forgo sleep and meals to check everything.”
Father pats my arm, trying and failing to smother another quiet laugh. He is tall and broad-shouldered, with light brown hair and a wide smile with deep dimples, both Sabrina and I inherited. Though where she is nearly as tall, I take after mother and stand almost a head shorter.
“I take it you’ve come in here for this?” He taps the invitation with a finger.
My throat goes dry. I nearly forgot the reason for teasing Father. I school my face and remind myself to breathe as I return to my seat and wait.
The wax cracks as he breaks the seal. He pulls out a pale paper, then reads it silently. There is a painstakingly detailed drawing of half a mask in the upper left corner with two ribbons trailing from one side to create a partial border.
“Is it the annual equinox ball?” I ask.
Father grunts the affirmative, reading over it once more. I can hardly sit still while I wait.
Finally, he sets the invitation on the desk and looks at me over the rim of his spectacles. “You’ve always avoided vampire hosted events for Mr. Browning’s sake. I doubt he’s had a sudden change of heart.”
“Well, I can’t very well expect to find a suitor if Ben is always at my side.”
When Father gives me a doubtful expression, I look down at my hands, clasped in my lap.
“It’s a good match Zadie. Consider it. Even Sangate has limited choices for an equal match.”
This is a conversation we’ve had many times in the past. Father only wants the best for me, and under different circumstances, it’s possible things would be different.
Everyone who has seen Benjamin and me together at any point assumes it’s only a matter of time before we marry and start a family. After all, I am the second daughter of a duke, and he is the only son of a marquess who stands to inherit his father’s estate. And we have long since past the age when it was proper for us to spend so much time together. Logically I understand that it’s a beneficial match.
There’s no use wishing to change the past, just as there is no amount of talking that will change how I see my friend. Perhaps it’s because I’ve known him since we were only six, but Benjamin is like a brother to me. I could never look at him any other way.
“Sabrina will inherent the estate, and I’ll inherent my husband’s title—whatever it may be, and you don’t want me to live a harder life than necessary,” I recite the familiar lecture.
I gesture to the viscount’s invitation and continue before we get off track. “Which is why this is the perfect opportunity for me to meet potential suitors,” I say. Then I lean forward and whisper, “I doubt the viscount will invite any stable boys to the ball to sweep off my feet.”
Father presses his lips into a thin line but otherwise ignores my attempts at teasing him.
“Mmm, I suppose you’re right.” He claps his palms lightly against the desk. “You may go.”
I jump up from my chair to give him another hug. “Thank you!”
“Yes, well, anyway, your sister will be pleased to hear you’re going to accompany her this year.”
My smile falters, but he doesn’t notice. He has already picked up his quill and resumed working.
Sabrina attending the ball could be a problem, but there is still plenty of time to work the kinks out. We need to keep her from getting tangled up in our plans. If she finds out what we’re doing, Sabrina will do whatever it takes to stop us.
* * *
Between meeting up with Benjamin, Wallace, and Oscar to go over the details until each of us could do our parts in our sleep and buying gloves and a new dress and have it altered to flatter my figure, the week goes by fast.
Impossibility, it seems to drag at the same time.
My lady’s maid helps me into my dress. The bottom of the skirt is the creamy pink of the first flower buds before they bloom, darkening into a light smokey gray of the bodice, and a delicate layer of midnight lace that makes up the low heart-shaped neckline and long, off-the-shoulder sleeves. I keep my black satin gloves in the small pouch that hooks to a loop at my hip, hidden within the folds of my dress.
My hair is pulled up and to the side, with a cascade of curls that come down to spill over one shoulder. Pins that glitter in the lamplight when I move my head look like tiny stars plucked from the night sky. Except for the delicate pearl framed with swirling silver on a thin silver chain, my shoulders and neck are left bare.
I’ve worn dresses in a similar style to other events, but tonight, it makes me feel exposed. Like I am an offering to the vampire lord.
The grandfather clock in the drawing room below my bedroom chimes. Before it finishes counting the hour, the clop of hooves makes its way through the gate and up the drive.
